


The Bicentennial Mystery

by Brumeier



Series: Bite Sized Fic 2020 [41]
Category: The Three Investigators | Die drei ??? - Various Authors, The Trixie Belden Mysteries - Julie Campbell Tatham & Kathryn Kenny
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Case Fic, Established Relationship, F/M, Mystery, Prompt Fill, Theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24619678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: LJ Comment Fic for Seventies Events prompt:Trixie Belden Mysteries/The Three Investigators, Trixie Belden/Jupiter Jones, a Bicentennials-related mysteryIn which Trixie has brought Jupiter back to Sleepyside for the Bicentennial celebration, and stumbles into a mystery.
Relationships: Trixie Belden/Jupiter Jones | Justus Jonas
Series: Bite Sized Fic 2020 [41]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610332
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020





	The Bicentennial Mystery

“Ouch! Dang it!”

Trixie sucked the end of her finger. She had no idea why she’d agreed to join the quilt circle. Honey had always been better at wielding a needle.

“Don’t bleed on it, for heaven’s sake,” Mrs. Peterman fretted, plucking the fabric out of Trixie’s hand.

“I don’t know,” Diana said. “A little blood seems fitting for a Bicentennial.”

She gave Trixie a conspiratorial wink, and Trixie rolled her eyes, grinning around her injured finger.

Moms had talked her into coming home for the big celebration, and insisted she take part in sewing a special quilt for the occasion with other women from the greater Sleepyside area. The quilt would be displayed on the Fourth of July, part of the larger celebration that would be happening that day.

It was also an excuse for the family to finally meet Jupiter, Trixie’s boyfriend. 

As soon as Trixie’s finger stopped bleeding, she reclaimed her square and got back to work. At least until Mrs. Peterman’s teenaged granddaughter burst through the front door.

“You’ll never guess what happened!” Katie said, bouncing up and down on her toes.

“Shut that door!” Mrs. Peterman scolded. “You weren’t raised in a barn.”

Katie gave a backward kick to push the door closed. “The letters are gone! Someone _stole_ them!”

Trixie’s needle slipped again. “Ow! Good golly!” She popped her finger back in her mouth. “What letters?”

“ _The_ letters! Every family in town wrote a letter and on the Fourth they’re putting them in a time capsule,” Katie explained. “Only Mr. Larrabee’s office was broken into last night and the letters are _gone_! Freaky deaky, right?”

Trixie looked at Di. A mystery! On her second day home!

“Absolutely not,” Moms said sternly from across the quilt. “You’re on vacation.”

*o*o*o*

Trixie rescued Jupe, who’d been apple picking with the Belden men in what was a thinly veiled excuse for interrogation. He’d looked relieved, and then intrigued when she explained that they were off to talk to Mr. Larrabee about the letters.

“Why would someone steal a bunch of letters from regular old families?” Trixie mused aloud. “They were nothing special. It’s not like President Ford wrote something personally.”

“If it’s not the writer, it’s the content,” Jupe replied. “Or someone trying to throw a wrench in the works.”

Trixie nodded, considering both scenarios. It was strange, walking down Main Street with Jupe, pondering a mystery. Sleepyside seemed so much smaller to her after living in LA. Quaint, with all the red, white, and blue bunting hung up everywhere. Slow, compared to life in a big city.

Jupiter Jones, with his second-hand bowling shirt and engineer boots and brown hair hanging in his eyes, stood out like a creature from another planet. At least to Trixie. He’d stood out to her since the day they met.

Mr. Larrabee was amiable about talking to them when they arrived at his office. He was an insurance salesman, and part of Sleepyside’s Bicentennial committee.

“I didn’t have the letters locked up,” he explained. “I was keeping them in my desk drawer. They aren’t valuable.”

Jupe asked about the state of the office when Mr. Larrabee had discovered the theft, but nothing else had been disturbed. Nothing was tossed or broken or strewn around.

“Who knew where you kept the letters?” Jupe asked, taking down notes in a little notepad.

“My secretary, Angela. James, my partner. Probably other members of the committee. It wasn’t a secret.”

“Can you give us a list?” Trixie asked.

*o*o*o*

Trixie and Jupe made their way methodically through the list, agreeing that it had to be an inside job since the thief had known exactly where to find the letters.

“There’s something in one of those letters they don’t want anyone to see in ten years time,” Jupe said. “What did your parents put in the Belden family letter?”

Trixie shrugged. “No idea. Family history, maybe. Moms has been researching the family tree.”

She tucked her arm through Jupe’s as they headed to see the next person on Mr. Larrabee’s list. She always felt a little bad mentioning family, knowing that he was essentially an orphan. He’s been raised by Aunt Mathilda and Uncle Titus, and they were wonderful people, but they weren’t his parents.

Each interview delivered another bit of gossip about the other people on the list, and by the time they got halfway through, Trixie had a pretty good idea who was behind the theft.

“Is this what it’s like, living in a small town?” Jupe asked.

Trixie nodded. “Everyone knows everyone else’s business. You just have to know who to talk to. And I think we need to see Mr. Van Tassel.”

Andrew Van Tassel was a teacher at Sleepyside High, and they found him at his home working in his garden. Trixie didn’t know him – he’d started after she graduated and moved to California – but the buzz of gossip had come around to him too many times to be ignored.

“Mr. Van Tassel, I’m Trixie Belden. This is Jupiter Jones. We’re looking into the theft of the Bicentennial letters.”

“Why would I know anything about that?” he replied. But he looked panicked and it was clear he wasn’t a criminal mastermind.

“We just want the letters, sir,” Jupe said. “We don’t have to say who had them.”

Mr. Van Tassel crumbled pretty quickly. He’d stolen the letters to cover up an affair with a married woman, who had told him she’d confessed to it in her letter. Trixie let him slip that letter out, not looking to see whose name was on it.

When they returned the letters to Mr. Larrabee, he promised to lock them up.

*o*o*o*

Trixie and Jupe walked through the apple orchard, hand-in-hand, with just the stars and fireflies to guide their way.

“Maybe they’ll give you an award,” Jupe said. “The Girl Who Saved the Bicentennial.”

Trixie giggled. “I’m down with it.”

“Was it nice? Growing up here?”

“Yeah. Sleepyside is a good place to be a kid.”

And it really had been, all things considered. Nice neighbors, plenty of places to take the Wheeler horses for a day’s ride. Jupe’s childhood had been much different. He’d been a child actor and, after his parents died, he’d done the rest of his growing up at the scrap yard. But, just like Trixie, he’d had his own gang of friends to run around playing detective with. With a Rolls Royce instead of horses.

They were lucky to have found each other.

The big celebration would be in two more days – parades, pie-eating contests, homemade jam judging, 4-H livestock show, the quilt presentation, the burying of the time capsule, the biggest fireworks show Sleepyside had ever seen – and then Trixie and Jupe could go back home to Rocky Beach.

“There’s still another mystery to solve,” Trixie said. She stopped and looked up a Jupe. “The Mystery of the Un-kissed Lips.”

“Right on,” Jupe murmured, leaning down.

Not even Bicentennial fireworks could match that.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** I was only three years old at the 1976 Bicentennial, so I have no personal experience to draw from. But there was a (possible) theft associated with it, as I learned after doing some Googling. There were Scrolls of Rededication that were supposed to be delivered – via wagon train! – to Valley Forge State Park, where they’d be buried in a time capsule to be opened in 100 years. One of them was signed by President Ford. No-one knows what happened to them to this day. That incident inspired this little ficlet.


End file.
